


we crossed the line (and it was on)

by harlequin87



Category: Rugby Union RPF
Genre: Blowjobs, Coming Out, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:35:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21803683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harlequin87/pseuds/harlequin87
Summary: “Can I give you a blowjob?” Jamie asked, apropos of nothing.“Um,” Elliot said, with the level of coherence one would expect from a man in his situation, “what?”
Relationships: Jamie George/Elliot Daly
Comments: 10
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has the intent of being a Christmas fic, even if that description is only justified by it being set in December. I hope you enjoy, and I'd love to hear your thoughts about it so far!
> 
> Title taken from 'Cut to the Feeling' by Carly Rae Jepsen.

“Can I give you a blowjob?” Jamie asked, apropos of nothing.

“Um,” Elliot said, with the level of coherence one would expect from a man in his situation, “what?”

They were at a bar with the rest of the team after the Munster game, drinking to life and love and it almost being Christmas. Elliot looked at Jamie. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright, but he always looked like that when he was a bit tipsy. It had been a perfectly normal evening up to that point. Elliot shook his head to clear away the cobwebs. Maybe he was imagining things.

“I mean,” Jamie said quietly, leaning in until Elliot could smell the alcohol on his breath, “I want to suck your dick.”  
Elliot coughed on his mouthful of beer and pushed his friend away. “Mate, I – you’re not thinking straight. Do you want me to take you home?”

A grin spread slowly across Jamie’s face. “Really?” He slung an arm around Elliot’s shoulders, narrowly missing his friend’s mostly full drink. “Oh, El, this is great. Let’s go to yours.”  
Elliot shrugged him off. “No, Jinx. I’m dropping you off at your house, and then I’m going home. Stay here while I tell Brad we’re leaving.”

With a glance behind him to check Jamie hadn’t fallen under the table or something equally ludicrous, Elliot sidled over to the captain’s table. “Hey, uh, Brad?” he said with a tap on his captain’s shoulder. “Jamie and I are leaving now. He’s getting a bit much.”  
He shuffled his feet as the rest of the table burst out laughing. “Alright, mate,” Brad said, still chuckling. “He’s always touchy-feely when he’s drunk, so just give him a shove if you need to.”

He walked back to Jamie, the encouragement of his new teammates following behind. “Come on, buddy,” Elliot said, poking Jamie in the arm. He was slumped in his seat and his eyes were mostly closed. “Bedtime for the babies who can’t hold their beer.”  
Jamie smiled at him blearily. “Okay, El. Take me home.”

Elliot kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead as he drove back to Jamie’s house, not willing to contemplate his best friend slumped in the passenger seat. It wasn’t completely out of the blue, Jamie propositioning him. His best friend had always been open about his sexual preferences – ‘anything with a pulse that’s consenting and of age’, he’d declared once to raucous laughter in England camp. On Jamie’s side, the suggestion was to be expected.

For Elliot, on the other hand… In the past, he’d only ever slept with women. The opportunity had never really arisen to experiment with men; the grindstone of trying to make it in professional sport didn’t leave much time for that. He wasn’t disgusted by the idea. He wasn’t homophobic. Jamie had been his best friend for years, and he’d known almost from the word go how he liked to spend his free time.

Would he really mind? He hadn’t had sex in a while – World Cup preparations left even less time for discreet hook-ups than usual training – and the idea of a willing partner had its appeal. He shook the idea away. Jamie was more than just a warm body to be used and discarded. He deserved so much more. But if Jamie had been thinking about him too…

“Thanks for the ride,” Jamie said, holding back a yawn. “I’ll jus’ go to bed now.”  
Elliot frowned. He didn’t remember parking outside Jamie’s house, although he’d done it so often as to make it automatic. “No, Jinx. You nearly played the full eighty today – I’ll make sure you have a shower and get to bed before I leave.”

Jamie grumbled his assent and opened the car door. He practically tipped out of his seat, only some remnant of reactions keeping him upright. Elliot felt smugly justified. “Come on, mate,” he murmured, slinging Jamie’s arm around his shoulders and getting out his key. “Ten minutes tops, and then you can sleep.” He manhandled Jamie through the door, up the stairs, and out of his shirt before pushing him into the bathroom. “Shout if you need anything!” he called through the door.

As the noise of the shower filtered through to the bedroom, he sat on the edge of Jamie’s bed to wait. It was a level of domesticity he still wasn’t used to. Before, the majority of their non-rugby time together was spent in random towns halfway between Coventry and London, a few hours here and there over the course of the season, and then a couple of glorious weeks on holiday somewhere warm and sunny. Now he was at Saracens (a thrill still ran through him at the thought), they could hang out wherever they chose, every day of the week. Elliot’s house hadn’t really been unpacked yet, so Jamie’s place was the preferred location.

Elliot shifted on the bed. Would this be where they – did Jamie think about him – how – since when –

The questions flitted through his head as he spread his fingers over the sheets, grounding himself in the sensation of the smooth fabric on his skin. He took a deep breath. He’d stalled the discussion for the time being, and Jamie might not even remember suggesting it in the morning.

He exhaled. Some small part of him was wondering how it might feel, though. Jamie obviously knew what he was doing on that front. Elliot could hand over control to his best friend, lose himself in the sensations in a way he’d never been able to with women… Essentially, the onus was on him to decide. Jamie was apparently up for it. He was the only thing holding them back.

A crash interrupted his meandering thoughts. “You okay?” he shouted, half-standing up.  
“Yep!” Jamie yelled back. “Just tripped on the towel.”

Elliot groaned internally. Of course that image had to open a whole new Pandora’s box in his mind: Jamie, fresh from the shower, warm and solid and so broad, his usual flush trailing down past his chest, past his stomach… He shuddered, sparks flying down his spine. Taken out of the rugby context, the mere thought of Jamie shirtless was somehow now getting him hot and bothered where it had never been an issue before.

Jamie came into the bedroom, mercifully wearing pyjamas, and Elliot reluctantly stood to leave. He wanted more time to think.

“Thanks for looking after me,” Jamie said, pulling Elliot into his side. (Suddenly, he found himself having to focus on his breathing a lot more.) “My turn next time.”  
“It’s not a problem,” Elliot said, resting his head on Jamie’s shoulder for an all-too-brief moment before wresting back control and stepping away. “Call me when you wake up, okay? I’ll come round if your hangover isn’t too bad.”

Jamie scoffed. “Don’t doubt my alcohol tolerance, El. I know exactly what I’m doing.” He swayed forwards and kissed his best friend’s forehead gently. “See you tomorrow, mate.”  
Elliot blinked a few times, wondering if he had actually drunk more than he remembered. “Yeah. Sure. Have a good night,” he said slowly, and backed out the door.

The next morning, after he woke up, Elliot lay in bed and allowed the memories of the previous night to pool in his consciousness. Jamie really had asked if he wanted to – to have sex with him, effectively. Maybe it was just the effect of the few sips of beer he’d had, but he distinctly recalled having considered the subject at length.

Stretching under the covers, in the clear light of day, Elliot resolved to think about it again. In the past, yes, he had only slept with women. But, reflecting on what he found attractive, several images came to mind: his ex-girlfriend’s smile, his best friend from school’s hair, and the contours of a teammate’s back (in his half-asleep state, he couldn’t determine who it was, but then that wasn’t exactly the point of the exercise).

After a few minutes more of contemplation and no text from Jamie, he decided to get up and have breakfast. The day after a game, all he had to do was stretching and generic rehab. That left plenty of time for musing.

Over a plate of scrambled eggs, he concluded that he had exhausted all other options. It was time to turn to the Internet.

Initially, the Internet seemed more useful than his hours of hard thinking. Six tests and the NHS website told him in the space of ten minutes that he was indeed bisexual. Annoyingly, however, each result came with the caveat of ‘only you can truly know’, or some waffly get-out-of-jail-free clause. Elliot wanted something concrete, so he knew where he stood when the conversation with Jamie inevitably came around.

He needed to talk to someone. Unfortunately, his options were as few as the leaves on the trees outside. He couldn’t ask his parents, or his brother, just in case; it was too awkward to explain why he wanted to discuss his sexuality so urgently on a Sunday morning. None of the Saracens could be trusted to keep a secret, even if they were mostly accepting. Calling up an ex was just plain weird.

That eliminated the vast majority of his social circle, except – Wasps. Although he rationally knew the team bore him no ill will for jumping ship at the end of the season, he hadn’t spoken to most of them since the end-of-season social in May. Really, his only option was Joe Launchbury. They’d been in camp together for months during the World Cup, and the older man always projected calm, captainly vibes. Yes, Joe was who he needed right now.

Taking advantage of his courage before it deserted him, Elliot hit the call button. Only after several rings did he remember – Joe wasn’t a singleton like him. He had a four-year-old daughter and a considerably pregnant wife in the house too, whom Elliot had probably just woken up. He dug his nails into his palms. The one conversation where he really needed Joe to be in a good mood, and he’d screwed up already.

“Elliot?” Joe said, confused. “It’s half nine in the morning. It’s a Sunday.” Elliot glanced at the clock. Oops. “What’s up?”  
He opened his mouth to start, then realised he didn’t actually know what he wanted to say. “It’s – I – it’s complicated, mate,” he said, biting his lip.  
“Okay?” Joe said. “Is it that pressing that it needs a call on my one day off a week?”

Elliot cringed. “I think it might be? Look, I’m in a bit of a situation and you’re the only person I trust to give me advice.”  
Joe sounded somewhat mollified. “If you say so. I’m just getting my breakfast now, but you’re on speaker.”

He took a few deep breaths, wondering where to even start. His crisis that morning? Scratch that, the crisis last night? Jamie in the bar? Before then, when he would occasionally rest his eyes for a minute on Charlie Matthews’s abs in the locker room before tearing them away?

“You alright, mate?” Joe asked, clinking noises in the background. “I can call back, if that would help.”  
“No, it’s fine,” Elliot said, squeezing his eyes shut. “To cut a long story short – I think I’m bisexual?”  
Joe made a surprised noise. “Uh, congratulations, I guess? If you think anyone at Saracens is going to bother you because of it-”

“No, it’s not that,” Elliot cut him off impatiently, adrenaline rushing through him. “It’s pretty much the opposite problem. I know they won’t have an issue with it, because one of the team asked me to have sex with him last night. So it’s all fine on that front.”  
“Right – so where do me and my excellent advice come into this?”

“Ah. Yes. Basically, I think-” he forced himself to relax his shoulders- “this guy is obviously much more experienced and sure of himself than me. I think I’m attracted to him, but isn’t it a bit soon to go from ‘oh, I’m bi’ to – to that?”  
Joe hummed. “It all depends on what you’re comfortable with. Maybe it’s soon for some people, but it’s very individual. And, like, would you be having this same crisis if it were a girl?”

Elliot scuffed his feet on the floor. “Probably not. I just… I really like this guy. As a friend, and probably in other ways as well. I don’t want to screw it up by making it awkward.”  
“Talk to him,” Joe said gently. “Being with a teammate is most likely new for him too, so communication will help a lot.”

“Okay,” Elliot said in a small voice. “Thanks, Joe. I guess I just needed someone else to tell me that it’s alright.”  
“I’m always here for you,” Joe said warmly. “You may not be a Wasp anymore, but we’re still friends.” He paused. “Maybe not this early on a Sunday, but I mean it. If you need me, call.”  
“Thank you,” he said, suddenly feeling very alone in his echoing London house. “If it doesn’t go well – you’ll be the first to hear, I promise.”  
“Okay. Good luck, Briefcase.”

Elliot smiled wryly as the call ended. Joe hadn’t told him anything he didn’t know already, but it was good to hear it from someone he trusted (not that the online quizzes weren’t useful in their own way). Following his former captain’s lead, he decided to have a second round of breakfast while he waited for Jamie to surface.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, he didn’t get the text confirming his best friend’s return to consciousness for another hour. Elliot had taken out his nerves on his messy house, anxiously checking his phone between loading the washing machine, vacuuming the floors, and rearranging his bookcase. When his phone finally buzzed, it was a relief to end the interminable suspense.

_Hey El. Found the note you left me – thanks! (if I didn’t say it already) _

_how’s the head?_

_Ugh, don’t talk to me about that_

_Your note also said you wanted to talk?_

_yeah, if that’s ok with you_

_Always happy to see you :)_

_I can be there in half an hour?_

_Sounds good – I’ll actually get out of bed then ;)_

Elliot sighed. It only took ten minutes to drive to Jamie’s house, which left him with another twenty minutes of trying not to fixate on the mental image of a soft, sleep-rumpled Jamie lying in bed. Perhaps he would experience that for himself all too soon…

His stomach churned. By now, he knew – more or less – that he wanted it. Jamie was his best friend, and it wasn’t normal to think about your best friend’s body so much in that context, or at all. The thought of – of doing the deed with Jamie (or at least, having Jamie do the deed to him) made him shivery all over. He pushed away the thought. He still needed to be able to drive.

Eighteen minutes later, he knocked on Jamie’s front door. If he couldn’t take that noise, then there was no point attempting to have this conversation.

“Morning, El,” Jamie said with a grin, opening the door. “How’s it going?”  
Elliot smiled awkwardly. “Good, thanks. Surprised you’re so perky after last night.”  
Jamie patted his stomach. “Nah. Iron constitution, me.”

“Can I – come in?” Elliot asked, hovering on the doorstep.  
“Oh – sure,” Jamie said, seemingly not realising how uncomfortable the situation was. “Do you want a drink?”

“Tea?” Elliot asked, wiping his feet on the mat.  
“The usual?” Jamie was already heading to the kitchen.  
“Yes, thanks!” he called after him.

He locked the door with hands that were only slightly shaking. If Jamie didn’t remember the conversation (or was pretending not to), then it was up to him to bring it up. Essentially, it was his decision whether they would talk about it, or bury it and never speak of it again. Given the mental effort he’d put in over the last few hours, he was inclined towards the first option.

Jamie was just adding the milk to their cups of tea when Elliot entered the kitchen. He took his usual seat at the table, digging his fingers into his thigh to stay calm. It was only Jamie. They’d talked about weird stuff before, so this was no different.

(Except for how it really, really was.)

“Thanks, Jinx,” he said, smiling as his best friend handed over the tea.  
Jamie settled down opposite, sipping from his own mug before speaking. “So, what did you want to talk about? I feel like I remember most of what happened last night. You definitely drove me home and made me have a shower, which was good of you.”

Elliot closed his eyes, gripping the cup hard. “Do you remember why I took you back here?”  
“No? Like, I was pretty drunk, if that’s what you mean.”  
“No, it was more – more that you were staying stuff that I didn’t think sober Jamie would, so I decided you should probably go home.”  
“What did I say?” Jamie sounded intrigued, and Elliot wanted to throw up.

“You said you wanted to give me a blowjob,” Elliot said quietly.

He stole a quick look at his best friend. His mouth was hanging slightly open, and his eyes were wide. “I – really?”  
“Yeah. You were quite insistent about it.”

A hand came up to cover the mouth. “Shit. Oh, God, El, I’m so sorry. That was so inappropriate – you must have felt awful.”  
Elliot bit his lip. “No, I mean, it’s fine. You were drunk, so I was never going to let it go anywhere.”  
“But I was drunk! That makes it worse, because I wasn’t stopping. Christ, I’m sorry.”

Elliot took a steadying gulp of tea. “Honestly, it’s okay, Jinx. I knew you’d never do something like that if you were sober.”  
“But,” Jamie spoke in a small voice, “what if I did want it? Doesn’t that make it worse?”

Elliot stared at him. “But you didn’t, so it’s fine.”  
“Elliot. I wouldn’t have said it sober because I didn’t want to screw up our friendship.” The words seemed to be causing Jamie physical pain. “Anyway, you’re straight, so it doesn’t matter.”

It was Elliot’s turn to feel like he’d been punched in the gut. “I – I’m not. Or, at least, I don’t think I am.”  
Jamie tugged at his hair. “Way to let me down easy, mate. Look, I’ve seen your exes, so I know you don’t like me in that way. Just come out and say it.”

Elliot had never been in a more excruciating conversation (and he’d been in two unsuccessful World Cup debriefs). “Alright. I thought I was straight. What you said last night got me thinking, and now I think I’m actually bi? Basically, if you’d been sober, maybe I would have said yes. As it is, we can’t.”  
Jamie huffed out a breath. “Fine. From my side – if I’d known you weren’t straight, I would have made a move years ago. I really like you, in pretty much every way possible. But you’re saying no, so there’s nothing doing.”

Silence filled the room. Elliot sat still, digesting what Jamie had just said. “Hang on,” he started, “you’re saying that you would – y’know, even when you’re sober?”  
“In a heartbeat,” Jamie said thickly.  
“So you like me, and I like you…”

He could almost hear the cogs clunking into place.

“You can’t be serious,” Jamie said, a faint hint of hope entering his voice. “It’s been about twelve hours – that’s not long to reassess your entire sexuality.”  
“I think I knew already,” Elliot said bashfully. “I just couldn’t admit it to myself.”

“So – you’re up for it?” Jamie said, looking hard at his cup.  
“Maybe not right now,” Elliot replied hastily, “but yes. At some point soon.”

A glowing smile spread across Jamie’s face, and he leaned across the table to take his best friend’s hand. “Thank you, El. I promise, I’ll make it so good for you.”  
Elliot looked down at their interlocked fingers. “I trust you, Jinx. I’m looking forward to it.”

Over the next few days of training, their interactions weren’t as awkward as Elliot had been expecting. Instead, it was almost the opposite: every look was charged with a knowing heat, imperceptible to the other players.

They were paired for a grappling exercise, and Elliot almost panicked and fled to the toilet. Regaining his senses, he stopped, fixing Jamie with a stern look. “No – funny business, alright?” he said lowly. “We’re professionals.”  
Jamie held up his hands, a put-upon expression on his face. “El, I would never.” He smirked. “Not unless you asked for it, anyway.” Elliot sighed and got down to the mat. He’d definitely walked into that one.

True to his word, Jamie didn’t try anything untoward as they writhed together, each fighting for dominance. No, it was all in Elliot’s head. Every time Jamie’s hands touched him, he had to repress a shudder. They were obviously warm from the exercise, but Elliot was five minutes away from combusting, Jamie’s effect on him was so strong.

They finally broke apart at Mark’s whistle. Elliot sat back, panting. “Alright there?” Jamie asked, swigging from his water bottle.  
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “Never better.” Jamie raised a knowing eyebrow, and then it was time to change partners.

Exercises requiring unfortunate levels of bodily contact aside, Elliot was proud of himself for how he maintained his composure. His nights were filled with images of Jamie in increasingly acrobatic positions, leaving him breathless and wrung out, and they were starting to filter into his daytime thoughts as well.

Even at the gym – Jamie was doing squats, while Elliot was taking a break from the bench press. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the flex of Jamie’s thighs, his arse, the sheen of sweat on his face. It was only once the trainer told him to lie back for another set that he realised he was about to reveal an incredibly embarrassing problem. “Sorry – I need to-” he blurted and ran from the room. The only solution was to think very hard and very quickly about the Springboks, clearly.

After so many signs that he was fully ready to take Jamie up on his offer, Elliot was almost disappointed when the inevitable panic arrived. It was just – the waiting was delicious, and he’d never known he could appreciate a good scrum so much before. But the thought of sitting down (or however Jamie wanted to do it; he was obviously in charge here) and letting his best friend get to work on – on his _dick_ was all of a sudden too much.

_hey Jinx – could you come round? having a bit of a moment_

_Of course, be there in ten x_

They were playing Bristol the next day, so this was hardly the time for such a panic. Elliot was a grown man, and there was only so much coddling that he could ask for. Jamie was probably within his rights just to give up on the whole project and move on.

The doorbell rang. Elliot wiped his damp hands on his jeans and went to open it, each step lasting an age as air rasped through his throat. Of course Jamie was still Jamie, but there was a whole new dimension of his best friend which he had never been fully exposed to before. It was frightening.

“What’s up, El?” Jamie asked softly, gathering him into a hug as soon as the door swung open.  
Elliot rested his head on his friend’s shoulder, taking a second to breathe. “I don’t know,” he said, muffling his words in Jamie’s neck. “I’m scared, I guess.”

“Oh, mate,” Jamie said, pulling back. “Let’s sit down, and you tell me what’s going on, yeah?” Elliot allowed himself to be led through to the living room and sat down on the sofa, a careful metre between them.

There was silence. Elliot didn’t know how to articulate his thoughts – how do you convey consent but fear at the same time? – and the longer the pause dragged on, the more stressed he became. Jamie seemed to notice the anxiety building up behind his eyes, making an abortive move to take Elliot’s hand. “Whatever you’re feeling, it’s perfectly fine and normal, okay? Maybe we should take a step back for the minute, give you a chance to think a bit more.”

Elliot was shaking his head almost before the sentence registered. “No. No, I don’t want to push it back any longer.” He forced himself to make eye contact. “I want to – do this so much. I really like you. I want you,” he repeated, biting his lip. “I’m just not sure how far I want to go, I guess.”

Jamie smiled at him softly. “That’s fine. I really, really like you too. Look, we can set a date for it, you come round to my house, and we can see where it goes, if you want.” He settled his hand on top of Elliot’s. “The most important thing for me is that you enjoy yourself. So we can take it at your speed.”

Elliot blinked at him gratefully. This was somehow going better than he’d expected. “I was doing some – this sounds stupid – I was reading about this kind of thing online, and… Basically, people say it’s a good thing to set boundaries, and, like, manage expectations beforehand.”  
Jamie nodded, linking their fingers together. “Okay, that works for me. What are you looking for in this – encounter, shall we say?” He raised an eyebrow with a small grin.

Elliot sighed. “Um… Well, obviously you’re more experienced than me, so just to be clear – Jesus, this sounds so crass – I’m not prepared to go further than hands or mouths at this stage.”  
Jamie was nodding before he’d even finished speaking. “Absolutely, same.” He smirked. “I know I’m a hooker, but I don’t go that far on the first time.”

He pulled a face. “Yuck, Jinx. Don’t say that.”  
Jamie shrugged. “One of my exes said that and I always think about it when I’m having – an encounter.”

His face turned serious. “Not to go on about my sexual history, but – a different ex had a thing about not being referred to in certain ways, like me not saying ‘baby’ or other pet names. Do you have anything like that?”  
Elliot bit his lip. “I don’t think so?” He flushed and looked away. “I like praise,” he said in a small voice.

Jamie looked at him steadily, face open. “Okay, I can work with that. I mean, my mouth would ideally be full, but that’s a thing I can definitely try.”  
“Is there anything for you?” Elliot asked, going out on a limb to match Jamie’s considerate attitude.

Jamie grinned, leaning closer. “I like having my hair pulled,” he half-whispered, “but you can’t tell any of the lads that. They’ll never let me hear the end of it.”  
Elliot smiled back. “That’s cool. Probably easier for me to do than you talking to me while – y’know.” 

Jamie ran his hands through his hair before bringing them to clasp Elliot’s. “In the interests of organisation and communication, etcetera etcetera – do you have a day in mind for all this to go down?”  
“As it were,” Elliot said with a smirk. Jamie rolled his eyes. “Maybe…” He screwed up all his courage. “Sunday afternoon or evening? We’ll be recovered from the match by then, and there’s nothing scheduled, and we’ll have time to deal with the aftermath by training if it goes badly, and-”

Jamie cut him off. “Sunday afternoon works for me. Good choice, El.”  
A shiver ran down Elliot’s spine. “You did that on purpose, mate,” he said accusingly.  
“And?” Jamie said, wide-eyed. “I’ve got to get some practice in before the big day. What would Faz say if I hadn’t practised my technique?”

Elliot groaned. “Jinx. Don’t bring Faz into this.”  
“I’ll add that to the list, then,” Jamie continued chirpily. “No – mentioning – our – favourite – flyhalf,” he said, pretending to scribble down the words.  
“You’re being ridiculous now,” Elliot said fondly, pushing Jamie gently on the shoulder.

“I’m trying to lighten the mood!” Jamie exclaimed indignantly. “Anyway, on the topic of practice – would you mind having a quick go at the, uh, preliminaries, shall we say?”  
“You mean a kiss?” Elliot said, suddenly freezing up again. At Jamie’s nod, he forced himself to relax. “Okay. Okay, yes. Let’s do it.”

Scarcely believing what he was doing, he slowly brought his hands up to cup Jamie’s face. His best friend looked back at him with naked trust in his eyes, an encouraging smile on his lips.

“Go on then,” Jamie whispered, his breath mixing with Elliot’s. “I want you to kiss me.”  
Elliot took another deep breath, nerves rising in his throat. “I do too,” he murmured, and leaned in.

The first touch of their lips was strange, awkward, foreign. Then Jamie grunted and settled a hand on the back of Elliot’s neck, bringing their bodies closer together. Elliot shifted, virtually in Jamie’s lap, and kissed him harder. Even with the adrenaline coursing through him, he knew it wasn’t just the kiss that was getting him going – it was the knowledge that it was Jamie, his best friend.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” Jamie muttered, drawing back for breath. Elliot smiled, a hint of nerves still in his stomach. He didn’t know what to say, so he went back in for another kiss. Remembering what Jamie had said, he moved his hands until he had hold of Jamie’s hair. Changing the angle of the kiss, he carefully tugged at Jamie’s hair. The reaction was an almost instantaneous groan into his mouth, Jamie pressing him into the back of the sofa.

They kissed for a few more minutes before breaking apart, pushing and pulling and tugging and panting. Finally, Jamie sat back. “Wow, El,” he said, smoothing down his hair. “I can’t wait for Sunday, if that was just kissing.”  
Elliot grinned. Yes, he was still stressed about the potential for screwing up their friendship, but he knew Jamie would take care of him. “You know I’m better at doing stuff than talking about it.”

Jamie straightened his shirt, seemingly still flustered. “I had noticed. But yeah – I’m glad we did that. It’s settled me down a bit.”  
Elliot nodded in agreement. “Same. I didn’t want to just do the full 0-60 in one day, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah, exactly. But also – there’s something to be said for just going for things. Like when we were at Disneyland Tokyo: you’ve got to have the faith that the rollercoaster will be fine, and then you can enjoy yourself.”  
Elliot laughed, one hand still resting on Jamie’s shoulder. “Eddie’ll be thrilled that that’s your biggest takeaway from the World Cup. Rollercoasters are like sex.”

Jamie’s eyes darkened for a second at the last word, before he shook his head. “Well, in the interest of actually saving the big event for Sunday – I should probably get going now. That is, if you’re feeling better?”  
Elliot pushed their foreheads together momentarily. “Yeah, I am, thanks. See you tomorrow for the match?”

“Yep.” He paused. “How about a kiss for the road?” Elliot snorted, but gave him a gentle peck on the forehead. “Not quite what I was going for, but thanks anyway, El. See you tomorrow!” And with that, Jamie was gone, leaving Elliot sat alone on his sofa, slightly shell-shocked and wondering if he’d dreamt the whole encounter.


	2. Chapter 2

The match against Bristol was pretty satisfying, all things considered, but Elliot could barely focus on the game in front of him. His eyes were subconsciously tracking the white number two on a black shirt at all times, the ball a mere afterthought. Even in the handshake line after the game, he was drawn in to Jamie’s orbit by some unseen gravitational force.

The locker room was the greatest test of his willpower, however. Jamie had taken his shirt off to lead the Tiki Tonga. Elliot was trying his hardest to maintain the heterosexual casualness around semi-naked men (or one in particular) which he had cultivated so effortlessly up to this point. He didn’t feel like he was selling it, though. It was probably a good thing that his stumbling over the words could be attributed to the very few times he’d actually sung it before.

Jamie, the bastard, had clearly recognised the look in his eyes, and came swaggering over to give Elliot a tight, sweaty hug. “Good game, El,” he murmured, breath hot in Elliot’s ear.  
“You too,” Elliot replied, lightly pushing at his best friend’s hips to get him to move away. “Now go and have a shower. You smell awful.”  
“But you don’t think I look awful,” Jamie countered, walking away with a wink and leaving Elliot somehow even more flustered than before.

At the same time all too soon and not soon enough, Sunday afternoon arrived. Elliot sent a quick text to Jamie (_setting off now, be there in ten_), took a deep breath, and got into his car. He breathed again, forcing the air in and out of his lungs, slowing his racing heart. It was slightly ridiculous, he knew. This was almost as nervous as he’d been for the World Cup final.

Deciding there was no other option, he plugged in his phone and started his pre-match playlist. It couldn’t hurt. By the third song, the anxiety had subsided to a manageable level. But pulling into Jamie’s driveway sent the nerves skyrocketing again. The song only had a minute left, so he let it play out and hoped that Jamie wasn’t watching.

The final bars died away, and there was nothing between him and Jamie. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to – he did, so much it hurt – but he was scared. Even the memory of the kiss from Friday wasn’t helping anymore. It was fine, he reminded himself. Jamie was his best friend for a reason. Be honest and up front with your feelings, and he’ll look after you.

On unsteady legs, he walked to the front door and knocked twice. He barely had time to centre his breathing again before Jamie pulled it open. “Afternoon, El,” he said, beaming.  
Elliot suddenly felt very self-conscious, looking at Jamie’s button-down shirt. His Saracens T-shirt wasn’t much by comparison. “Hey, mate.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “You’re looking good.”

Jamie’s smile softened, corners of his eyes crinkling. “Thanks – and come in.” He turned away to walk down the hall. “It’s the buttons, right,” he called back to Elliot, who was taking his shoes off by the door. “They’ll take longer to undo, so, like, it’s showing you that I’m ready to take it as slow as you want.” Elliot had to lean against the wall for a moment. God, he loved that man. A rugby player who could make a reassuring statement through his shirt choice – truly one in a million.

Elliot trailed after him, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Jamie led them to the living room, for which Elliot was grateful. He wasn’t ready to dive right into it – not yet. “How come you were sat outside for so long?” Jamie asked, face open and clear, patting the seat next to him.  
Elliot carefully tucked himself under Jamie’s arm before replying. “I was nervous,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “This sounds stupid, but – I was listening to my pre-match playlist to hype me up, calm me down, y’know.”

Jamie’s arm tightened around his chest. “Baby,” he said softly, mouth next to Elliot’s ear, “that’s not stupid at all. Look – I’m worried too, if we’re being honest. I want to make this good for you. You deserve that, at the very least.” Elliot tipped his head back to rest on Jamie’s shoulder, grounded by all the places where their bodies were touching. “But, just to check… You still want to do this?”

Elliot nodded hastily. “So much,” he said, voice cracking. “Been thinking about this all week, even during the match.”  
Jamie kissed Elliot’s forehead. “That’s a lot of expectation to live up to.”  
Elliot shivered as his friend’s tone darkened. “Do you think you can do it?”

“How about I show you, and you decide?”

The knowledge of how cheesy the line was didn’t prevent Elliot from reacting to it. Every inch of contact between their skin was suddenly burning, a fire raging in his stomach. “Go on then,” he murmured, twisting around until they were sat facing each other.  
“Sure you’re ready?” The coolness of Jamie’s words was betrayed by the heat in his eyes.  
“Yes. You’re good?”  
“Never better.”

Once Jamie had the confirmation he wanted, he reached forward and pulled Elliot into a hard kiss. Elliot squirmed under his hands, already on edge. Sensing his desperation, Jamie manoeuvred them until Elliot was pressed against the back of the sofa, with Jamie straddling him. “So good,” he was murmuring, kissing down the side of his neck. “So good for me, El.”

Essentially pinned in place, Elliot slid one hand into Jamie’s hair while the other stroked up and down his back. “You feel – ah – incredible, Jinx,” he gasped out, as Jamie’s fingers brushed across his nipple. Jamie sat back immediately, and Elliot felt a burst of panic. What had he done?

“Hey,” Jamie said, his serious expression ruined by a twinkle in his eye. “No nicknames in bed, please. Call me Jamie, or there’s no way my mouth is going anywhere near your dick, alright?” Elliot nodded fervently, willing to agree to almost anything to get that delicious buzzing sensation back.

Jamie didn’t seem too keen to delay proceedings either, sucking a hickey at the juncture of Elliot’s neck and shoulder. He finished it off with a scrape of teeth, making Elliot hiss. He moved lower, thumbing at Elliot’s nipples through the rough fabric of his shirt. “I always imagined you wearing my Saracens kit, you know,” Jamie said, almost conversationally. Elliot could only breathe heavily in response. “I think this is better, though.”

“Stop – talking,” Elliot gritted out. “Take your shirt off.” Jamie raised his eyebrows but complied with his request, sitting back and slowly undoing the buttons. Elliot whined at the loss of sensation, too bashful to touch himself under Jamie’s attentive gaze.

“Keep your eyes on me, El,” Jamie said, holding eye contact as he stood up and folded his shirt on the chair. “Remember, we’re going slow.” Elliot didn’t need any incentive: he’d had enough of covert glances at Jamie’s chest over the years, and he was relishing being able to stare openly and take his fill. “Like what you see, hmm?” Jamie slowly dragged his hands across his abs, eyes fixed on Elliot’s face. “I can tell you do.”

He walked back over and settled himself on Elliot’s lap again. “The look on your face, Elliot. So hot, it’s ridiculous.”  
“You too,” Elliot sighed, words cut off with a yelp as Jamie ground down onto his crotch. “Fuck, wow.”  
“Good, huh? Just like you. Being so good for me, so good.” Jamie punctuated each word with a tiny circle of his hips, leaving Elliot keyed up and desperate.

“Can I-” Elliot asked, a hand hovering above Jamie’s pecs.  
“You want to touch?” Jamie asked lowly. “Go on then. You’ve done so well.” It was his turn to close his eyes in pleasure as Elliot skimmed his hands down from his shoulders to his abs, seemingly not knowing where to focus.

After a few moments, he settled on the lines of Jamie’s hips, rubbing at the very edges of the V, knowing where they led. Jamie kept pushing down, causing Elliot to jerk his hips up unconsciously, seeking more friction. “Come on, baby,” Jamie murmured. “How about we get your shirt off, then we go upstairs?”

Elliot didn’t want to lose the glorious pressure on his dick, but his need for more overrode his first instinct. “Okay,” he said, breathing heavily, pulling off his T-shirt and practically tipping Jamie off his lap as he stood up. “Let’s go.” Quickly adjusting himself, he headed to Jamie’s room, knowing his best friend was right behind him.

“Hey,” Jamie said, catching his hand as he was about to enter the bedroom, “if you want to stop at any point, just say, okay? Or tap my shoulder, or something.”  
Elliot nodded, careful to lock eyes before pulling away to get to the bed. “How do you want me?” he asked huskily, tugging at the button on his jeans.

Jamie stared at him. “Never thought – you, in my room,” he said quietly, before regaining his authoritative voice. “Yeah – jeans off, keep your boxers on. Sit on the edge of the bed.” With hands shaking now from excitement, not fear, Elliot yanked off his trousers, throwing them to one side, and sat obediently on the bed. He couldn’t help but move his hands to his upper thighs, shifting ever so slightly to keep the burning arousal at fever pitch.

“You look really good,” Elliot said as Jamie turned around from taking his trousers off, voice painfully honest and mouth dry.  
“Thanks,” Jamie said with a coy smile. “Now-” he sat down next to Elliot- “what’s the game plan?”  
Elliot blinked. “I thought that was obvious. Plus, like, you’re in charge.”

Jamie kissed his shoulder quickly before replying. “Okay, so far I’ve taken control. But you’d already said you were fine with all that, so I didn’t need to check in as much.” He tangled their fingers together. “I want to make you feel good, so you need to tell me what you want.”  
Elliot blushed. He’d never had to – articulate his desires so clearly before, but it wasn’t exactly turning him off. “H-how much detail?”

Jamie wrapped an arm around his waist. “Rough picture? As much as you’re willing to give, and then I can work with it.”  
He nodded, closing his eyes and relaxing into his best friend’s embrace. “I guess… I liked the making out earlier. I like you being in control.” He paused, and when he spoke again it was in a whisper. “I like you knowing what makes me feel good.” A longer silence, and then barely any sound. “I want you to suck my dick and make me come.”

Jamie squeezed him close. “Thank you, El. Your wish is my command.” Elliot opened his eyes to see a soft expression on Jamie’s face, which morphed into a shit-eating grin as soon as he saw Elliot looking. “Okay, if you just-” he pushed at Elliot’s shoulder, and he obediently lay down- “yeah, like that, and then I’ll just-” He swung a leg over Elliot’s hips, both moaning at the contact.

On instinct, Elliot brought up a hand and tangled it in Jamie’s hair, tugging lightly. “More of that, please,” Jamie groaned, eyes fluttering shut. Elliot pulled again, feeling himself grow impossibly harder at the guttural noises he was drawing from Jamie.

Jamie swatted at Elliot’s wrist. “I love it when you do that but – you’re the focus here. Give me a few minutes?” Elliot gave his hair one last tug and let his arms fall flat on the bed. Jamie leaned down until he was curled over his best friend. “Okay, so, here’s the situation,” he murmured, pressing kisses across Elliot’s chest. “I’m going to – work my way down, let’s say, and you can stop me, or pause, or whatever, at any point. Then I get to the main event, the underwear comes off, and we’re off to the races.”

He looked up at Elliot through his eyelashes. “That alright with you?”  
“More than alright,” Elliot breathed shakily. He couldn’t quite believe this was happening. It would be an out-of-body experience if he wasn’t so aware of every touch Jamie made on his skin, every shift of his weight, every rise and fall of his chest.

Jamie started mouthing his way down Elliot’s chest, and all rational thoughts were wiped from his mind. Everything was narrowed down to the bubbling fire of arousal stoked by each press of Jamie’s lips, and the decreasing distance between his best friend’s mouth and his cock. He groaned at the mental image, then opened his eyes and groaned again as he saw Jamie, keen eyes in a flushed face, nearing the top of his boxers. So close.

Slowly, tantalisingly slowly, Jamie trailed a finger around the inside of Elliot’s waistband. “Get on with it,” he grunted, tempted to yank on his hair for real.  
“All in good time, dear,” Jamie said, not looking away from the task at hand. “I said we’d take it slow, and I meant it.”

Elliot rolled his eyes and stared at the ceiling. However, it was hard to maintain his thread of righteous frustration when Jamie started mouthing at his dick through his boxers. His leg flexed almost reflexively, catching Jamie on the hip. “Shit, sorry, mate,” he mumbled, trying to wrest his body back under control.  
“It’s okay,” Jamie said, hot breath ghosting across Elliot’s dick. “I’m a professional; I like seeing results quickly.”

Elliot shuddered, resisting the urge to pull off his boxers himself. “Could you possibly speed up a little?” he pleaded, twisting his hands in the sheets. “You’ll definitely – ah – see results faster then.”  
Jamie grinned, linking their hands. “As I said earlier: your wish is my command, babe.”

“Lift your hips for me, El,” Jamie murmured, hooking his fingers into Elliot’s boxers and pulling down. Too turned on to be embarrassed at this point, Elliot eagerly let Jamie peel away his underwear. “Wow, baby,” Jamie said, dropping the boxers in favour of curling a hand around Elliot’s dick. “You’re pretty.” Elliot coughed out a laugh, pushing up into Jamie’s hand and chasing the friction.

“Your turn,” he managed to choke out through the waves of heat.  
“Alright, hang tight for a sec,” he said, patting Elliot’s hip as a parting gesture before wriggling out of his own underwear.  
“’Kay, more please,” Elliot said, trying his best to sound commanding.  
Jamie answered him by pressing a light kiss to the head of Elliot’s dick. “Hey. I’ll do it when I’m ready,” he said, flicking at his best friend’s side and ignoring his squirming.

Elliot huffed. “First, it’s all ‘oh, I’ve been thinking about this forever’, then ‘let’s go at your speed’, and now we’re just stopping?”  
“Oi.” Jamie fixed him with a hard stare. “Number one – there’s this thing called consent. Number two – haven’t you ever heard of delayed gratification?”

“Okay, sorry,” Elliot said, looking away. “When you’re ready – well, you can tell I am,” he added with a wry smile.  
“Oh, don’t worry,” Jamie licked his lips. “I just needed a moment. It’s all good now. Let’s do this, El.”

Before Elliot had time to prepare himself, Jamie had taken the head of his dick into his mouth. He bucked his hips without thinking, shoving into the wet heat. Jamie pinched his hip, but didn’t pull back. Slowly, working his mouth and hand in tandem, he built up speed, driving Elliot closer and closer to the edge.

Elliot was past thought. Everything was sensation – the sucking sound of Jamie’s lips, the tang of sweat in the air, the tightness in his balls. He wasn’t going to last much longer. Curses were falling unconsciously from his lips. Blindly, he reached down and grabbed a handful of Jamie’s hair, pulling not too gently. He was rewarded for his efforts by Jamie groaning around his dick, vibrations sending sparks shooting up his spine.

He didn’t know how long they stayed in that state, pursuing the end goal together, panting and thrusting and gripping and sucking. Elliot was writhing on the bed as Jamie applied himself, hand and mouth in unison while the other hand skated across his body, tingling sensations trailing after his fingers.

“I’m going to-” Elliot groaned, flapping a hand at Jamie’s shoulder. He seemed to get the message and pulled back, a few final strokes and a twist of the wrist covering his face and chest with Elliot’s come. The man in question lay flat, gasping for breath, endorphins flooding through him.

Dimly, he could hear Jamie breathing heavily, knelt on the floor beside him, hand moving as a blur. There was a final grunt, and Elliot extended a hand in what he hoped was the right direction. “Come up here, babe,” he said sleepily.  
Jamie let out what sounded suspiciously like a yawn and clambered onto the bed. “That good for you?” he asked, cuddling into Elliot’s side.

“So good, babe,” Elliot murmured, pulling him in close and kissing the top of his head. “Thank you so much, Jamie.”  
“Would you do it again?” Jamie said in the same low tone, a private question in the space between them.  
“If you’d let me,” he replied, heart fluttering at the thought.

“Hmm. I’ll think about it,” Jamie said, flinging an arm across his stomach. “Anyway, I think that counts as your Christmas present for this year, so – merry Christmas, babe.”  
“Merry Christmas, Jamie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and Merry Christmas!
> 
> [To explain the rollercoaster comment...](https://www.instagram.com/p/B366RialcHL/)


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